Wonder
by palesadpuppet
Summary: [MidvalleyxWolfwood] Ever wonder if it's worth it, Player?


"Nice job," Wolfwood admitted.

"Thanks." Midvalley didn't look up from his precious saxophone, carefully greasing the neck and slipping the mouthpiece guard on over the reed; his hands paused for a moment, though. "Not too bad yourself."

"All in a day's work." Midvalley glanced over that time, but the preacher had already turned away, staring at the ruins of what had, half an hour ago, been a mansion. "Ever wonder if it's worth it, Player?"

"Not gettin' tired, are you, preacher?" Midvalley smirked, returning his attention to Sylvia. He took the mouthpiece between his lips, running up and down a scale; the tone was flawless, the instrument plainly undamaged. The musician tucked the saxophone's neck strap into his jacket, carefully pulling and neck apart from the body and stowing them in his case. His handgun would be enough to deal with anything they encountered on the way back.

When he looked up, Wolfwood was standing a few feet in front of him, the Cross Punisher's imposing weight balanced on one arm. "That wasn't an answer."

Midvalley paused, hefting the saxophone case. "Doesn't do any good to wonder, does it?"

"No," Wolfwood muttered, and turned silently to face the way home. The saxophone case swung slowly in Midvalley's grip as they walked, the Punisher heavy over his shoulder. They had Thomases, but the birds had been stationed at the nearest town where they weren't likely to get caught in the crossfire when the pair of assassins went to work.

There was sand in their shoes and sweat trickling down the back of Wolfwood's neck before either of them spoke again. "Always thought you were a man of action, Chapel," Midvalley remarked, coolly subdued. "Seems to me that thinkin' about things too much doesn't help here. You don't believe in hope any more'n I do."

Wolfwood trudged onward in silence.

"Just doin' things seems like a better way to get 'em done," Midvalley said suddenly, about a minute later.

Wolfwood didn't answer, hefting the Punisher onto his other shoulder with a grunt of effort and walking on without a pause. If the musician was offended, he didn't show it; Midvalley didn't show any discomfort at all, suit still impeccably white and clean and hair only gently mussed out of place. Wolfwood found it vaguely annoying.

"Want a drink?" Midvalley asked, as they staggered into town. "My treat."

"Knives is going to want us back," Wolfwood said, gritting his teeth and setting the Punisher against a building for a moment.

"Hell, he's not going to kill us for takin' a rest, is he?" The saxophonist rolled his shoulders back, placing the case down by his feet. "I could use a bit of a break. C'mon, Chapel."

Wolfwood grabbed the Punisher and followed him, glancing over his shoulder for a moment as though expecting Knives or his pet telepath to come out of nowhere and cut their pay for stopping on their way back.

"Mission's done, should be all that matters," Midvalley was muttering, when the preacher caught up to him and headed inside the nearest tavern. They were a strange sight to see in a backwater town- a musician dressed in pink and white, elegant down to his shoes, and a black-suited holy man carrying a cross that weighed more than most men would care to lift. No one questioned them, however, when Midvalley flipped a shining coin to the nearest waiter and pulled Wolfwood over to a table. The Punisher made a soft _thud _when Wolfwood set it down.

Wolfwood drank slowly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Midvalley knocked back a glass of wine in one go; licking his lips, the musician settled back comfortably in his chair. A minute later, he reached over, sliding a hand around to the back of Wolfwood's neck. "Must be tough, carrying that thing everywhere. Full of mercy, huh?"

The preacher finished off his glass and replaced his table, giving his companion a flat look. A smile twisted around the edges of Midvalley's mouth. "So, remember what I said about gettin' things done? How it's easiest when you just..."

"_Midvalley-"_

Too late.

The musician pulled back a minute- or possibly an hour- later, smirking lazily. "Want to head back tonight, or get a room?"

"We're going," Wolfwood growled, grabbing the Punisher one-handed and getting jerkily to his feet.

He could _feel _Midvalley smirking all the way home.


End file.
